


Departures

by kmo



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Missing Scene, post-mizumono
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:16:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3931366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmo/pseuds/kmo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal seeks out the only teacup left unshattered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Departures

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Отезд](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5283758) by [Yallen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yallen/pseuds/Yallen)



> This was supposed to be the prologue to a longer fic about Bedelia and Hannibal in Europe. From the looks of the newest s3 trailer, it seems like this is very much AU. But read on if you'd like to see my version of how Bedelia and Hannibal made their escape.

He comes to her on that terrible last night in his blood-stained shirt, hair slick from the rain. He stands in her doorway, person-suit in tatters. She doesn’t ask how he managed to elude the two patrol cars parked outside her home—she doesn’t have time. The clock has wound down, the sand has run out of the hourglass, and she can feel her last moments slip through her fingers like shot silk.

“Hannibal,” she says, adding an uncharacteristic tremor on the second syllable. Bedelia reminds herself that she promised she would not beg for her life when this moment came. It is a promise she is no longer sure she can keep.

He steps forward, descending the steps slowly toward the living room, and sinks down in his usual chair opposite her. When he speaks, he avoids her gaze, which is far from usual. “You were right about everything. Will Graham offered me his friendship as a means to further manipulate me.” Hannibal pauses and raises his eyes, raw with anger and heartbreak. “He succeeded.”

Bedelia nods imperceptibly, calm as the eye of a hurricane. “Does that blood belong to him?”

Hannibal nods. “And to Jack Crawford. And Abigail Hobbs.”

“Are they dead?”

Hannibal gives her a look entirely inhuman, remorseless. “Not all of them, I should think.”

Bedelia feels wetness on her cheeks, tears for these two men she hardly knew, tears for herself. “Will mine be joining theirs tonight?” she breathes at last.

“No.”

His answer trips her up and she finds herself caught between relief and hysteria. “Why have you come here if not to end me?”

Hannibal gives her a stricken look, face wet from the rain and she realizes now his own tears. He tries to speak but for once all his brilliant bon mots seem to have deserted him. Trembling with something inexpressible, he falls to his knees before her, burying his head in her lap. “I have shattered all the teacups. You are the only one left,” he tells her enigmatically.

She reaches out cautiously and threads a hand through his wet hair. The locks falling into his face make him look at once both boyish and bestial. She does her best to soothe, fear suddenly replaced by clinical curiosity. She can feel a strange dark power coursing through her at the sight of such a dangerous man kneeling before her in undisguised supplication. Those twin horses of curiosity and power had always been her undoing with Hannibal, the shadowy undertow of her own subconscious.

“I am leaving. Tonight. Will you come with me?” he asks, making a desperate grasp for her hand. It is a genuine question, she thinks, and not a command, though with Hannibal one can never be sure.

“Yes.”


End file.
